


Unbearable

by pinkish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Human Castiel, Masturbation, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkish/pseuds/pinkish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas refuses to deal with the problem he wakes up to (almost) every morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deal with it

When he became human, Cas knew that there were some things he'd have to get used to -- eating, breathing, healing infinitely slowly -- and it really should have occurred to him that ... this would be something he'd have to address.  
But it didn't. It really, really didn't.

When he first brought it up to Dean and Sam, the brothers had laughed so hard they cried and set him up in front of the internet with a few suggested search terms.

It had been, overall, a horrifying experience. Cas was embarrassed, ashamed, and vaguely grossed out. Most of all, it infuriated Cas to feel so out of control over his vessel -- his body, now. He had no say in the fact that he would wake up "hard" (Dean made it clear that tumescent was not a word he should ever say again, and erection was only used by advertisers to sell little blue pills, whatever those were) and it was ... frustrating. Insulting. Unbearable.  
So he dealt with it by, well, not dealing with it.  
He'd wake up, refuse to notice his cock (Dean had also denied him the use of the word penis), take a shower, refuse to notice his cock, get dressed, refuse to notice his cock, and, by the time he got to the kitchen for breakfast, usually the problem disappeared.  
Usually.

Some days, he would be stuck with his erection (he refused to say "boner" because Dean laughed every time he said it) until after breakfast, and it was after one of these days that Dean took him aside.

"Look, buddy," Dean said, face contorted in what appeared to be an attempt to look consoling, but conveyed massive amounts of discomfort instead. "You gotta do something about," he waved his hands towards Cas's crotch, "that."

Cas sighed. "Why?"

"It's not...it's not healthy?"

"Is that a question?"

"I don't know," Dean said as he shrugged and looked at a point just above Cas's eyes, "but people don't really...walk around with hard-ons, you know?"

"Not even among family?"

"No, Cas. Sorry," Dean's eyes finally met Cas's and he opened his mouth as if he were about to say something but stopped before he voiced his thoughts.

"I won't do it again, Dean. I'm sorry." Cas turned to go to his bedroom. He no longer had any desire to take the walk through the fields that he'd planned for the day.

"Wait --" Dean stopped Cas with a hand on his shoulder and continued, "Why don't you just," Dean waved his arms in a confused gesture, "deal with it?"

Cas raised his eyebrow. If he was going to be forced to have this conversation, he was going to make Dean say actual words.  
"Fine! Fine. Why don't you jerk off, buddy?" Cas watched as Dean's blush spread down his neck and below the collar of his shirt.

"I don't like that I have to."

"You don't have to--"

"You just said that I had to deal with it!" Cas could feel his temper rising, so he took a deep breath and calmed himself. "You said that I had to do something about my erection."

This earned him an eyeroll from the hunter, but Dean was smiling when he spoke again.  
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Cas, but it's not really considered polite to have a hard-on in public."

"I know, Dean," Cas sighed, " I just ... I just don't like not knowing how or why or when it's happening."  
"Welcome to humanity, buddy. Bodies are weird." Both men stood silent for a moment, until Dean's eyes widened. "Is that what it is? You're feeling human?"

"Every morning I wake up, Dean, I have this blatant reminder that I'm not who I used to be. I don't regret falling. I really don't. But I do miss being in control. I miss knowing how to use my body, how to make it do what I want it to do."  
Dean grinned, though he tried to stifle it, and said, "Well, you know, there is something you can control. Didn't you ever look at those sites we told you about?"

Cas shifted uncomfortably. "No, I was...I think I was ashamed."

"Hey, Cas, there's nothing to be ashamed about. I do it all the time -- lots of people do it all the time. It's actually really amazing," Dean said, mouth stretching into a grin, "It can feel really good and warm and beautiful. It's not gross, I promise!" Dean's grin faded slightly, as he dropped a hand onto Cas's shoulder. "I'm sorry that I didn't say that before. I'm sorry I'm not good at this stuff."

"You don't have to apologize, Dean. Most people wouldn't know how to teach someone to be human -- I hope it's not too boastful to say that I think you've done a fine job." 

"Thanks, Cas. I think so too."   
"What, uh," Cas blushed, "What was that site you told me to check out again?"


	2. Dealing with it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas takes matters into his own hands, but it's harder to do than it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well it's not quite porn, but it's porn-y. I think I've got another chapter after this one -- hopefully I'll get it up tomorrow! If not, by the end of the week :D

When Cas woke up the next morning, he found himself in the same situation that had caused him such grief. He felt hot, tight, and his...his cock was hard and straining against his boxers.

Any other day, he would get out of bed and make his way to the shower, touching his body as little as possible. But he’d promised Dean -- he’d promised himself. Dean had provided him with a link to a website, and told him which video to watch “for inspiration” (followed by a waggling of eyebrows that reminded Cas of Gabriel’s vessel). So Cas knew what to do, technically.

In practice, though, he found himself still nervous and uncertain. He mimicked the movements of the man in the video as best as he could recall them: First, rub hands lightly along upper thighs. Second, bring hands up against torso and brush across sensitive skin of the stomach. Third, continuing to stroke lower torso with one hand, bring other hand up to chest towards nipple. Fourth, rub lightly at nipple, pinch and tug if desired. Fifth, slowly bring hand towards boxers.

Rub cock through material----

Cas pulled his hand back quickly. The shock of sensation was overwhelming -- he hadn’t been prepared for the level of intensity that touching himself would elicit. The man in the video had only breathed softly at the contact and rubbed harder. It hadn’t looked like he’d felt something as powerful as what Cas had felt.

The sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but it was far too much. He was certain that his response was not normal. Was he broken? Perhaps he was not accurately connected to the nerves in his body. Or perhaps he damaged the body when he fell. Cas felt heavy and warm -- arousal faded to anxiety and shame, which (thankfully) solved his problem for the day. He felt his cock soften as he imagined what other aspects of his humanity he would discover to be twisted.

Cas sighed and made his way to the shower.

***

“So, uh, Cas,” Dean said, eyes not moving from his cereal bowl. “How, uh, how did it go? Do you feel better?” Once again, Cas watched as a flush spread from Dean’s cheeks, down his neck.

“I was able to rid myself of my ‘hard-on’.”

“Come on, Cas! If you’re going to say ‘hard-on’ like that,” Dean brought his fingers up into quotation marks as he rolled his eyes, “then just say erection.”

“Thank you, Dean. I was able to rid myself of my erection, then.”  
  
“Wait a sec, buddy. Rid yourself?” At this, Dean turned his head to face Cas directly. “That’s not...really the goal, you know?”

“It is my goal. I don’t like having erections, masturbation can relieve the symptom, so I attempted to masturbate.”

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean sighed and his eyes turned soft, “it doesn’t have to be so clinical. It’s not just about getting rid of your hard-on, it’s about feeling good while you do it!”

“I’m not sure that’s possible for me, Dean.”  
  
“Not possible? You don’t think you can have an orgasm? Is it an angel thing?”

“When I...touched myself, the sensation was...” Now it was Cas’s turn to blush, and he could feel the heat of his embarrassment in his stomach. “The sensation was overwhelming. I felt it through my whole body, like I’d been electrocuted.”  
  
Dean huffed a laugh, but stifled it when he saw Cas’s eyes narrow and his face flush deeper.

“Sorry, Cas. I’m not laughing at you -- I’m laughing at myself. I remember my first time. I thought...” Dean grinned and shook his head at the memory, “I thought I’d broken myself. Had no idea what could cause me to feel something all over my body like that. It took me months before I touched myself again.”

“It was more intense than anything I’d ever felt, Dean! I’ve been an angel, and I’ve never felt anything like it! My body doesn’t work like yours does,” Cas stood up as his voice got louder, and he found himself leaning on the table and into Dean’s space, gripping the edge tightly.

“Hey,” Dean brought his hands up in front of him in a gesture of peace, “Hey, Cas, talk to me. Did it hurt?”  
  
“N-no. It felt too pleasurable, though.”  
  
“You’re probably just really sensitive. I mean, you’ve had this body for years, and you’ve been alive for thousands more, and this is the first time anyone’s touching you there. You’re bound to be a little sensitive.”  
  
“Do you really think so?” Cas looked down at his hands to hide the hope on his face. “Do you really think I might not be broken?”  
  
“Yeah, Cas. I do. Just maybe, instead of waiting until you’re hard, start when you aren’t turned on -- go slow and listen to your body, ‘kay?”

Cas took in a deep breath then looked at Dean, who was watching him with tenderness in his eyes. “Yes, okay, yes. I will, Dean. Thank you for being so patient.”  
  
“No problem, Cas. Seriously.”

***

That night, Cas turned off the lights in his bedroom and laid down on the bed. He felt safe and in this room, lying on this bed, with his head resting comfortably on his pillow. He wasn’t entirely sure that Dean was right, but Dean did have more experience being human than he did -- he would trust Dean just a little longer.

He began the same way he had that morning -- trailing soft fingers up and down his thighs, sometimes brushing a thumb against the join of his thigh to his hip. He let himself focus on the sensation of the soft hair on his legs and the feel of the cotton sheet against his skin. He felt himself relax into the mattress as he closed his eyes. He brought his hands up over his hips and brushed his fingers across his stomach. The muscles jumped -- he was ticklish, it seemed -- but on his second pass, the sensation shifted to a lighter, more suffused pleasure. He rested one hand below his navel and brought the other to his chest. Instead of stopping, though, he dragged his hand to his neck and stroked at his collarbone, and at his pulse point.

He was so warm.

He startled himself with a moan when he lowered his hand to his boxers, as he had that morning, but it was absolutely a moan of pleasure, not of pain or shock. The feeling was similar, but not quite as intense. He brushed his hand across his cock and felt it harden -- Dean had been right. Cas smiled with relief, and continued palming at his forming erection. Remembering Dean’s advice, Cas stopped trying to replicate what the man in the video had done. That man had gone straight to rubbing, but Cas found himself enjoying the sensation of soft pressure from his palm on his cock, and he squeezed himself gently. The friction of his boxers against his cock was...truly pleasurable.

Unlike anything he’d ever felt, but it was enjoyable. Soon, though, the friction was not enough. He could feel himself wanting more, straining for more.

Cas brought his other hand down and squeezed at his testicles -- the pressure of his fingers underneath sent a shudder through his body, and he heard himself moan again. He began rubbing his hand up and down his cock, pausing to squeeze occasionally. But still, he needed more, so he quickly removed his boxers.

The head of his cock was a deep pink, glistening with liquid and he slowly trailed a finger up until he touched it. The feeling was almost as intense as the one that had worried him that morning, but rather than send a twist of shame through his body, it sent a wave of pleasure.

He curled his fingers around the base of his cock and slowly pulled up until his palm covered his head. He squeezed gently and moaned as his hips bucked up. He repeated that action again, and again until he lost control of his hips. He bucked into his palm, breathing harshly as he felt pleasure build and build and he could hear his voice making small whimpering sounds.

Suddenly he remembered Dean’s face, flushed, his eyes, tender, his lips curving into a smile and the pleasure intensified. He moaned loudly and -----

He squeezed himself roughly at the base of his cock.

_What the_ fuck _was that?_

Still holding himself tightly, Castiel breathed deeply until his heartbeat normalized. He loosened the pressure on his cock and sat up to pull his boxers on, hands shaking from -- from...

From fear, yes. From shame. From arousal, as well. Why did he remember Dean at that moment? Why had it elicited so much physical pleasure? Cas could understand physical actions resulting in physical sensation, but it had only been a thought. An image. How could he have felt it in his body?

Cas crawled under his covers and curled onto his side, eyes shut tightly.

It took him hours to fall asleep that night.

***

“Sam, could I...speak to you privately?”  
  
Cas had found Sam in his customary spot at the table, surrounded by dozens of books.

“Sure, Cas,” Sam looked up from a text on demons and grinned at his friend. He pushed the book away and leaned back to look at Cas. “What’s up?”

“Could we, perhaps, speak somewhere else? I, uh, I have something...private, something I don’t want Dean to hear...” Cas blushed -- he hated not being able to speak to Dean about his problems, but he doubted the hunter would enjoy hearing about how the sight of his lips had caused such a strong reaction.

“Oh!” Sam’s eyes widened and he leaned forward to peer at Cas, “Oh...Ok. Sure. Let’s, uh. Let’s go for a walk -- Dean won’t be able to sneak up on us that way!”

“Thank you, Sam.”

They walked out to the fields across from the bunker, and Cas breathed in the sweet smell of grass and dirt and sunlight that he would have sworn, as an angel, that you could not actually smell.

“So, what’s up, Cas? And don’t say “The Sky”. I know Dean’s been teaching you stupid jokes, but, believe me, I’ve heard them all.”

Cas smiled, “Don’t worry, I try to forget those jokes as quickly as Dean teaches them to me.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“I know this is awkward, so I apologize ahead of time. I...assume you’re aware of the, um, problem that I’ve been having?”  
  
“You mean the, uh,” Sam waved his hands in the vicinity of his crotch -- it appeared that replacing words with vague hand motions was a common trait among Winchesters.

“Yes,” Cas rolled his eyes, “that.”

“Right. So. Uh. I thought Dean talked to you about it?”  
  
“Yes, he did. He explained that it was normal and that I shouldn’t be afraid of it. He also explained that I shouldn’t be surprised to be, um, sensitive. But when I tried last night...”  
  
They walked for a few moments in silence. Although Cas felt closer to Dean, he enjoyed the quiet patience of the other brother. Dean would have pushed for Cas to explain himself by now, but Sam stayed silent, walking beside Cas and waiting for him to feel ready.

“It felt good, but then I saw Dean’s face. I don’t know why.”

Sam coughed, face reddening, and said, “You mean you saw his face while you were, uhm, masturbating? Like, he was there? Or you imagined it?”  
  
“I imagined it -- Dean did not interrupt my privacy.”  
  
“Good, good. That’s good. Um. When you pictured his face, did it, um, feel better?”  
  
Cas nodded, “Is that normal?”

“If you’re asking if I picture my brother’s face when I jerk off, the answer is absolutely not. But if you’re asking if it’s normal to picture someone’s face, to imagine that someone you, uh, you, um...love,” Sam glanced at Cas, checking to see how he would react to his choice of word, “then yeah, it’s totally normal.”

“Oh. It’s not wrong? It seems...impolite.”

“It’s not something you generally tell people, unless they, I dunno. Unless they ask? But if you have strong feelings for someone, well, it makes sense that they’d show up in your head like that.”  
  
“Okay.”

Sam and Cas walked in a companionable silence until they made their way back to the bunker. Before they went inside, though, Sam turned to face Cas.

“Do you?”  
  
“Do I what?”

“Do you, uh, love him?”  
  
“I love both of you, Sam -- you’re family.” Cas tilted his head, unsure why Sam felt the need to ask.

“No, I mean. Do you have feelings for him -- do you wish he was more than family?”  
  
“Oh, you mean romantic love.”  
  
“Yeah, Cas -- do you love him?”  
  
“I...think I might. I don’t know what it feels like, to love someone as a human. But I think it feels like this.”

Sam watched Cas’s face soften as he thought about Dean, watched the tension leave his shoulders and saw the way his eyes brightened.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

“Thank you, Sam.”  
  
“Happy to help, Cas -- like you said, you’re family.”  



	3. Wanting it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The (pun intended) climax of Cas's journey through self-love ;)

When they got back to the bunker, Cas pulled Sam into a hug, whispering his thanks so that Dean -- who was waiting for them at the kitchen table -- couldn’t hear and ask why.

Dean normally greeted Cas with a smile and Sam by ruffling his hair, but he barely looked at them when they said hello.

“We got anything to do today, Dean?” Sam asked as as flopped into his chair, reaching for a dusty book and thumbing through it.

“Nope,” Dean stood up from the table, chair scraping along the floor.

“Ok. I’m gonna keep going through the library, then. Try to get some sort of order in there,” Sam said, eyes focussed on the tome in his hands.

“Whatever.”  
  
At that, Dean turned and headed out of the dining room. The only acknowledgement of Cas’s presence came when Dean’s eyes flicked briefly to the former angel as Dean left the room.

Cas felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. Dean had heard his conversation with Sam. Dean was angry. Dean hated him for thinking about him like that. Dean was disgusted. Dean didn’t love him.

His face turned ashen and he sat at the table. He hated how his body constantly betrayed him, but it had never occurred to him that his mind could betray him, too. He knew that there was no way that Dean could have heard, and even if he had, it did not mean that Dean hated him. Dean was probably tired, or annoyed at Sam, or annoyed at Cas for something entirely different.

It hurt, because he couldn’t help but believe his mind when it told him Dean was upset with him. But it made Cas angry, too, because he knew he there was no reason to believe it.

Why couldn’t he control his own mind? Why couldn’t he stop the chorus ( _Dean is angry. Dean hates you. Dean thinks you’re disgusting. Dean is angry. Dean hates you. Dean thinks you’re disgusting._ ) that echoed in his mind.

Sam looked up when he heard Cas settle into his chair and must have seen the anguish on his face. 

“Cas!” Sam stood up and walked over to Cas’s side. He placed his hand on Cas’s forehead, feeling for a fever. “You okay? You look sick, man!”

“No, I am not okay,” Cas’s voice wavered as he spoke and he felt tears stinging his eyes.

“You don’t feel like you have a fever,” Sam said, removing his hand from his forehead, “Did you eat something weird? Do you feel like you’re gonna throw up?”  
  
“I do not believe I’m physically ill, Sam, though I do feel unwell,” Cas said as he looked up at Sam, tears threatening to spill. “I cannot stop myself from thinking unpleasant thoughts,” Cas blushed as Sam pulled a chair next to Cas and sat down.

“What thoughts, Cas?” Sam’s voice was soft. He sounded worried, but he didn’t sound horrified or upset.

“I think Dean is angry with me.”  
  
“What?” Sam furrowed his brows and replayed the last few minutes in his memory, “Hmm. Yeah, he did seem...upset about something.”

“I know, logically, that he cannot be mad about the, uh, the conversation you and I just had, because he could not have heard it. But I can’t stop myself from thinking that that is the reason he was out of sorts.”

“I know that feeling, Cas,” Sam smiled, a little sadly, “I get that way sometimes. Not just about Dean -- although,” Sam let out a harsh bark of a laugh, “he is often the cause of my anxiety. I felt it a lot when I was a kid. Whenever something went wrong, I always thought that it was because I’d done something, or hadn’t done something I was supposed to.”

“You did?” Cas wiped a tear from his cheek and looked at Sam, inspecting his face for signs of deception, “This is normal, too?”

Sam sighed, “Normal. It’s hard to say what’s normal, Cas. I mean,” he pushed his hands through his hair, grimacing as he tried to find the right words, “lots of people don’t worry about stuff like that, but some people -- like you and me -- we have a harder time telling our brains that some things aren’t really true. Like,” Sam sighed again, “Sorry, I don’t think this is making sense.”

“It is making sense,” Cas took in a deep breath, clearing his mind of his panic, “thank you. I guess it’s just...difficult being human -- even for humans.”

Sam laughed as he agreed, shaking his head and turning back to his books.

*** ***

Though Cas still found himself thinking that Dean (who had locked himself in his room most of the weekend, blaring loud music in a clear message of “Do Not Disturb”) was angry with him, it became easier to push the thought away. Dean may be upset, but until Dean chose to explain himself, there was nothing that Cas could do. The thought that others, like Sam, like Dean, had similar problems was simultaneously frustrating and comforting. It seemed likely that he would always have something new to learn about being human, but at least he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

It was late evening, a few days after his conversation with Sam, when he heard a knock at his door -- tentative and silent, as though the knocker wasn’t entirely sure they wanted to be heard.

Cas walked over, and he heard a huff of breath and footsteps receding. He opened the door to see Dean turning back towards him, face set with determination and his hands clenched at his side.

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw Cas standing in the doorway.

“Cas! Hey, I uh,” he stammered in the face of Cas’s tilted head.

“You knocked?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Dean. What did you want?” Cas stepped back into his room and motioned for Dean to follow him. He sat down on the edge of his bed and waited for Dean to sit in the only chair.

“I just, I uh,” Dean grimaced and closed his eyes. “It’s just easier if I’m not looking at you when I say this, ‘kay?”

“Alright...” Cas was confused, but he’d rarely seen Dean so ... unsure of himself, so he kept his questions to himself.

“I just wanted you to know that if you have feelings for -- oh god I can’t believe I’m going to say this. If you have feelings for _Sam_ ,” Dean put his face in his hands as he said his brother’s name, “I’m not sure he’s, uhmm, interested? I mean, I know he loves you, buddy, but like, uh, a friend? Not like, uh --”  
  
“Dean,” Cas interrupted, hiding his grin as Dean’s eyes shot open when he heard his name, “I do not have feelings for Sam. But if I did, thank you -- I appreciate that you did not want to see my feelings hurt. I know that he -- like you -- desires only women.”

Dean sighed, relief evident in the way he let go of the tension in his shoulders.

“Good, good. I just, I saw the two of you together today -- you went for a walk together and then you hugged him, and I thought, maybe, considering the, uh, conversations we’ve had lately, that...”

“You don’t have to explain, Dean. I understand that it is ... difficult for you to speak of things like this.”

“Ha,” Dean laughed as he stood up and made his way to the door, “Thanks, buddy.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean pulled the door behind him, but paused before shutting it completely, “I don’t, you know.”

“What?” Cas had turned away to make his bed, but he turned back at the sound of Dean’s voice.

Dean kept his back to Cas, but he replied, “I don’t just desire women. I, um, like men too.”

Cas’s mouth opened to respond, but his mind failed to provide any appropriate words. Dean was still for a moment, shoulders tensed as though expecting a blow, and then he pulled the door fully closed. Cas stayed frozen to the spot as he listened to Dean’s footsteps fade.

He sat down on his bed, slowly, trying to process the information. Trying to understand what it meant. What it meant that Dean told him. Why Dean chose to tell him. Why Dean chose to tell him now. Did it mean anything? Or was Dean simply correcting Cas’s assumption? His mind raced with all the different possibilities, and he tried not to let himself focus on the one possibility he wanted to believe. 

_Maybe Dean told me he desires men because he desires_ me _._

The thought reverberated in his mind, unwilling to be caught, to be dismissed. He knew it was unfair to assume that just because Dean liked men that he wanted Cas -- who was, really, only a man in form. But still...

He flopped back onto his bed, legs dangling over the edge as he brought his arms up to shield his eyes from the harsh fluorescent light. Every time he figured something out, some new worry, some new hurdle, reared up as if to taunt him. He couldn’t help the flutter in his stomach when he thought about Dean kissing a man, touching a man’s body, murmuring against a man’s neck. He couldn’t help thinking about Dean making love to a man -- a man who looked, increasingly, like Cas.

He tried to push the image from his mind -- an image of Dean bent over Cas, his chest pressing against Cas’s, his lips brushing against Cas’s skin -- despite Sam’s assurances that it was not rude. It felt different -- knowing that Dean might have done this with someone else, knowing that it might have been real for someone who wasn’t Cas. It felt worse and better. He recognized the slow warmth of arousal, but the sharp stab of jealousy was new. It pulled at him, swelled and tightened in his lungs and he dropped his hands to his sides in frustration.

He pushed himself up off his bed and went about his nightly ablutions, willing his hardening erection to disappear and getting increasingly frustrated at its persistence.

By the time he’d brushed his teeth and removed his shirt and pants, he knew that the reason he was failing to halt the images that were flooding his mind was because he didn’t _want_ to.

And that was okay. He was allowed to have desires. He was allowed to want, and whatever happened in his own mind didn’t have to be real. He could fantasize about Dean. He could push aside the jealousy and imagine a Dean who only had eyes for Cas. A Dean who wanted Cas as much as he wanted Dean. He just had to remember that that Dean wasn’t the same man he spoke to every day.

He set himself up in his bed as he had the first night he touched himself pleasurably: lying in the center of his bed, a pillow under his head and covers below his body. He enjoyed being warm, but he wanted to be able to see his hands, to watch his body react.

This time, when he brushed his fingers across his clavicle, he imagined they had Dean’s callouses. Rough skin against the soft, still new skin in the hollow under his throat. He took a deep breath and imagined that he breathed in Dean’s scent -- motor oil, gunpowder, sweat -- as he placed his hand on his stomach, just above his cock. He brought his other hand up towards his face, and stroked along his bottom lip, wondering if Dean would enjoy the feel of his lips. He pressed his finger in the crease of his lips and licked at it, wondering if Dean’s skin would taste the same.

He pressed at the base of his cock when he slid his finger deeper in his mouth. He sucked at it, picturing Dean’s finger in its place. He thought that Dean might enjoy the sight of Cas’s lips wrapped around his finger, might want the sight of Cas’s lips wrapped around his cock. His tongue fluttered against the pad of his finger and he twitched when he realized how good it would feel to have a tongue lick the sensitive skin at the tip of his cock.  His hand slid up to the head and he swiped along the slit where some pre-come was pooling. Cas rubbed the slick liquid around, revelling in the shivers that the soft friction elicited, but it wasn’t enough.

He slid another two fingers in his mouth and wet them with saliva, lapping between his fingers with his tongue, covering as much of them as he could before dropping that hand to his shaft. With two hands on his cock, he could cover himself, press himself, rub himself, leaving hardly any skin exposed. He kept one hand at the head of his cock, rubbing over it in circles with his palm and the other hand moved up and down his shaft, alternating pressure and friction.

What would it feel like to have Dean in his hands? He moaned at the thought and his hips stuttered, pushing up into his fist, into his palm. He wanted to feel the weight of Dean in his hands and in his mouth. He wanted to feel Dean’s skin under his tongue, to feel his breath against his throat. To feel the vibrations of his moans against his chest.

Cas brought his hand up to his mouth and breathed in his scent before he licked the pre-come from his fingers.

He would enjoy tasting Dean like that.

Cas continued to stroke -- slow, measured -- up and down his shaft as he let his eyes close. Instead of his fist, he pictured Dean’s lips, Dean’s mouth. Dean’s eyes looking up at him, sparkling with lust, pleasure. This drew another moan from Cas’s mouth and he increased the speed of his strokes, though the friction was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

He reached over to his night-stand, where he’d placed the bottle of lubrication that Sam had (awkwardly) handed to him with the explanation that it would “help with [vague hand-waving].” He squeezed some of the cool liquid into his hands and resumed his quicker pace.

Sam had been right -- though thinking of Sam wasn’t really working, so he closed his eyes tightly and imagined that Dean was lying next to him.

_Yeah, baby. Mmm. You look so sexy...touch yourself for me. I wanna see you feel good, Cas. I wanna see you make yourself come. I want to touch you so bad, baby. I want to taste you._

Cas gripped himself harder, lowering his other hand underneath his testicles. As he continued to stroke, he extended a finger and pressed at his hole. He gasped and the strange sensation, but found that he wanted to feel more. He rubbed along the entrance and imagined that it was Dean’s tongue. As he circled the hole, his finger dipped in briefly and he felt his muscles tighten around his finger.

 _Oh_ fuck _._

He pictured Dean’s cock in his finger’s place, imagined feeling his muscles tighten around Dean as he pushed into Cas. He could almost hear Dean’s pained groan as he stopped himself from slamming himself into Cas and he pushed his finger in more deeply. As he pumped into himself, his hips pushed his cock up into his fist and he lost himself to pleasure.

He wanted to feel Dean inside him, around him, and suddenly it wasn’t Dean’s cock inside him, but it was his cock inside Dean. He squeezed himself roughly as he pictured Dean lowering himself on Cas’s erection, as he imagined Dean’s moan when Cas was inside him fully. This image was more than he could bear, and his mind shut out everything but the sensation of his hand ( _Dean_ ) around his cock, of the feel of his finger ( _Dean!_ ) in his ass. He had no idea how long he lasted in this fevered, heated state -- seconds? minutes? it felt like hours -- but then he imagined Dean crying out his name in his own climax ( _“Cas! Oh god, Cas!”_ ) and his hips pushed up one final time into his fist as he came, hot come landing on his stomach and a grunt pushing its way out of his throat.

He continued to stroke himself -- lightly, as he found he was suddenly sensitive -- pulling smaller spurts of come from his cock, until he found himself shaking. He moaned when he removed his hand from his cock and his finger from his hole. Cas took in a shuddering breath and reached to the floor for his shirt in order to clean himself half-heartedly. He felt too heavy, too tired to do more than wipe the come from his stomach before burrowing under the covers.

He felt sated, comfortable -- happy. His happiness was dampened, slightly, when he realized that his body was reaching for a man who was only there in his mind.

He wanted Dean next to him. The _real_ Dean. Not the Dean who knew exactly where to place his fingers, his mouth, but the Dean who knew him better than anyone else (on this earth or not). Yes, he could deal with his arousal by imagining Dean, but he wanted so badly to have Dean beside him, concrete and real.

His mind was no longer distracted by his arousal and shock, so he allowed himself to think about Dean’s revelation. It may not have been a confession of love, but Dean would not have told him unless he wanted him to know. It was true that the two had a more profound bond -- the most profound bond Cas had ever known, and, he suspected, Dean as well. Cas did often look at Dean to find the man already watching him. Despite his constant protests about personal space, Dean placed himself in Cas’s personal space just as often as Cas stood a bit too close to him. Cas rifled through memories of Dean: brushing against Cas as he walked by, sitting close enough for their arms to touch, placing a hand on Cas’s shoulder and looking him in the eye. Telling Cas that he wanted him, _cursed or not_.

Cas slept soundly that night, a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an epilogue because I just couldn't stop writing! God I love these two butts.


	4. Epilogue: Getting it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just wrapping up loose ends :D

Dean was eating breakfast when Cas walked in, face flushed with happiness rather than discomfort. It was a relief to see that Cas had worked through whatever it was he needed to, though Dean couldn’t help the twinge of regret that he’d told Cas about his... _thing_...with guys. He knew that Cas wouldn’t judge him, but he was worried that Cas would look at him differently now.

“‘Morning, buddy,” said Dean, around a mouthful of corn flakes, “Sleep well?” He winked, hoping to deflect a conversation about his confession the night before.

“I did. Thank you for asking, Dean,” Cas paused, pulling a chair out next to Dean. “I wanted to thank you, as well, for...”

 _Crap_ , Dean thought as he realized that he wasn’t going to get out of a chick flick moment about coming out to Cas. He wasn’t even all that sure why he’d done it -- it’s not like Cas cared or anything. He’d made that clear enough already with the whole “genderless wave of celestial intent” thing.

His discomfort must have shown on his face because Cas smiled gently before continuing, “I know you don’t like to speak about such things, but it meant a lot to me that you shared that with me. I wanted to return the favour.”

“Cas,” Dean started, dropping his spoon in his bowl with a bit more of a clatter than he intended to, “You don’t have to--”

“I know, Dean. But I want to.”

Cas waited for Dean’s nod before he continued, “Unlike you, and unlike Sam, I find that I do not especially desire men or women.”

Dean’s stomach dropped and his chest tightened. He knew that Cas probably didn’t think about him _that way_ (Dean swore at himself for not even being able to think the words), but it had never occurred to him that it was because Cas just wasn’t interested. He’d always assumed it was because Cas just wasn’t interested in him.

“Oh.” _Fuck, Winchester. Way to be eloquent._

“I do feel desire -- lust, but it is not a feeling that any man or woman can elicit.”  
  
“I get it, Cas,” Dean said, though he knew he was interrupting Cas’s own coming out. He didn’t think he could handle hearing Cas shut the door to the faint hope he’d had when it had become obvious that Cas did feel desire, “you’re not interested in sex.”

Cas tilted his head, clearly confused by Dean’s reaction. “No, Dean, that’s not correct.”

Dean had bent his head over his bowl, unwilling to look at Cas, but Cas touched his shoulder and waited for Dean to look up at him again.

“If this is inappropriate, I apologize, but I do not like keeping things from you, Dean.”

This time, it was Dean’s turn to tilt his head in confusion, earning another smile from the former angel.

“Men and women don’t inspire lust in me,” Cas paused and took in a shaky breath, and Dean berated himself for not seeing Cas’s nervousness before now, “only you do.”

Those words short-circuited Dean’s brain and he could only gape at Cas. He searched Cas’s face for a sign that this was a joke, that Cas was trying to tease him or get him back for being such an ass about the whole boner thing, but he only saw sincerity.

“Do you understand what I mean?” Cas leaned in closer, catching Dean’s eyes with his, “I have only ever felt desire for you, and that is because I love you, Dean.”

Dean fought the tears in his eyes, but he was also fighting the fluttering in his stomach and the sensation that his heart was stopping, and he could only do so much. His breath hitched before he spoke, his voice cracking with emotion, “Y-you love me? You love _me_?”

He could feel the tension in Cas’s muscles as Cas restrained himself from leaning closer.

“Yes. I love you. If you don’t feel the same, I won’t mention it again, but--”

“I...” Dean had intended to say I love you, but the words caught in his throat, “I feel the same, Cas.”

“Good,” Cas smiled as he finally let himself lean in closer, as he pressed his lips against Dean’s and wrapped his arms around the hunter. It felt like he was never going to let Dean go.

Dean was pretty sure he didn’t want him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew! That was exhausting. I'm glad and notglad that it's over!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at pinkishfics (porny) or visticuffs (everything else)


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